


Warming up and dirty thoughts

by LostinFic



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/pseuds/LostinFic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While filming Rise of the Cybermen, David and Billie help keep each other warm but David's mind wanders into inappropriate thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warming up and dirty thoughts

The weather is appalling, it’s been freezing cold all night while they shot outdoor scenes with cybermen and now there’s a freaking blizzard. The puffy coats aren’t anywhere near enough for this kind of weather. He hates the costume department for making Billie wear such a thin dress when they knew they would be filming outside in November. He has half a mind to go talk to them.

They had a bit of a laugh earlier with Shaun and Noel comparing thermals and socks. But no one feels like laughing anymore. They take a break, hoping the blizzard will pass and they can resume shooting as they did earlier. But it seems to only be getting worse.

Billie and him sit by themselves on the backseat of a car, looking out the windows in disbelief. David can hear her teeth clattering as she rubs her hands up and down her legs covered only by pantyhose. It’s the kind of damp cold that seeps into your clothes and freezes you to the bone. He gives her his gloves and takes over the task of warming up her legs. They’re like ice lollies. It’s no use, she’s still shivering.

“Here, I have an idea.”

He unzips his coat and pulls her over to him.

“You sure?”

“Of course, c’mon, don’t be shy Bills, you’re freezing.”

She straddles his thighs, and he drapes his coat over her legs. At first, her whole body is stiff but as David runs his hands up and down her back-- both to warm her up and soothe her–- he can feel her relax. He enjoys her weight on him and the way she nuzzles his neck with her cold nose.

“Better?”

“Yeah, cozy, my body temperature is almost above zero now.”

 

After a while, she stops shivering, and he thinks she might have fallen asleep. Other people come in the car and inform him that the rest of the shoot has been cancelled. He runs his fingers through her blond locks during the drive back into town. Nobody comments on their sitting arrangement.

 

By the time they arrive, the blizzard has died down, but it’s still very cold. They drag their feet and lean on each other as they walk to their trailers.

“D’you think, maybe, I could stay with you tonight? I don’t really feel like being alone in my cold bed… Strictly as friends, you know.”

Billie bites her thumbnail, waiting for his answer. He’s taken aback by her request, but he accepts almost immediately. Strictly as a friend.

 

There’s an awkward moment as they change out of their clothes. She has to help him with the bowtie, and she makes a comment about unwrapping a present. Her laughter is nervous. He keeps his undershirt on. She asks to borrow his old Proclaimers t-shirt (“the ‘92 tour, not the other one”). He has a feeling it’s already her t-shirt. Her black dress and bra are discarded on the floor.

 

They lie down under the white sheet as far as possible from one another. Neither of them dares to speak or move. After a few minutes, they look at each other and burst out laughing.

“This is so weird, I almost regret asking,” she says, rolling on her side to face him.

“Nah, don’t worry,” he replies, moving on his side as well.

“Thank you David… for taking care of me.”

“I wasn’t gonna let you freeze.”

“Not just tonight… I see you, out of the corner of my eye, you know, looking over me. Like a hawk, Russell says. And I know you talked to that extra who was mean to me.” She chuckles lightly and rolls on her stomach, getting even closer to him. “Usually I would give hell to anybody who did that. I mean, I can take of myself.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.”

“It’s different with you, though," she says, absentmindedly drawing swirls on the pillow case, "it’s not your job and you’re not expecting something in return. It’s like part of your nature or something.”

He mulls this over for a minutes and shrugs. He’s not a selfish man, but he’s never met anyone before who he wanted to protect and take care of as much as his co-star.

“I don’t know that I do that with anybody else,” he finally admits as he reaches for her cheek.

She smiles, there is more to say, but they can hardly keep their eyes open. He tries to fight sleep anyway, wanting to commit to memory the sight of the lovely Billie Piper in his bed.

 

* * *

 

When he opens his eyes, somewhere around noon, he can make out Billie’s silhouette in the day light and his heart speeds up. The t-shirt has ridden up, revealing her lower back and his fingers itch to touch her skin. He imagines letting his fingers trail over the curve of her waist, pressing his lips on her spine and licking her hipbone teasingly until she’s completely awake. She’d laugh at him as he’d pull her knickers down with his teeth. He imagines resting his head on her stomach while she runs her fingers through his hair. He’d caress her legs and trace lazy patterns on her inner thighs until she'd spread them in invitation. He would keep his touch feather light as he’d stroke in and out of her until she’d be soaking wet. He pictures her wrapping her legs around his waist as he enters her and the way she would moan his name. In his mind’s eye they spend the whole day together in bed, exploring each other’s body.

 

“Good morning, sunshine!”

Her greeting abruptly pulls him out of his reverie.

“You alright?” Billie’s brown eyes are intent on his face.

“… uh, yeah, yeah, fine, that’s just what I look like in the morning.”

He coughs to cover up a groan as he rolls on his stomach to hide the physical effect of his imagination.

“I should get back to my place, take a shower and everything. I must look awful.”

She runs her fingers under her eyes, trying to erase imaginary traces of mascara. She stays in the bed. He doesn’t know how to ask her to stay longer. His brain is in a bit of a fog at the moment. She starts stretching like a cat, eventually her arms above her head reach for the headboard, and she arches her back off the bed, exposing her taut stomach. He might have growled.

 

Finally, she stands up and casually removes the t-shirt with her back to him. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to think about anything else than her round bum in those sheer polka dot knickers. That is until he catches a glimpse of her breast as she bends sideways to retrieve the dress from the floor. There’s a hint of a smile on her lips. She slips the dress on without bothering with anything else and gathers the rest in her arms.

“Thanks again, I haven’t had such a good night sleep in ages.”

“Anytime.”

She kisses the tip of her fingers and presses them to his cheek, a complete farce.

 

As soon as he hears the door close, he reaches for her t-shirt and brings it to his nose. The smell of her perfume and cigarettes mixes with that of his laundry detergent. He suddenly feels like an old pervert, smelling a t-shirt worn by his 10 years younger co-star and pressing his pelvis in the mattress when just last night she thanked him for taking care of her without expecting anything in return.

 

He lifts himself off the bed with a grunt and tries to get about his day. He listens to the news on BBC radio 1 and checks out the schedule for the day, his brain retains none of the information. When he steps into the shower he thinks that she’s probably in hers too and his imagination catches up with him.

 

David imagines joining her under the water, pressing his chest to her back and rubbing her stomach slippery with mango scented soap. He’d kiss her neck and shoulders until she’d offer her lips, and tease her breasts, feeling her nipples hardening under his palms. He imagines them laughing as they fumble around to find a position that won’t result in one of them slipping and getting a concussion. With the help of a sturdy curtain rod, he’d finally push into her wet heat (which would most likely feel a hundred times better than what he’s doing right now). His imaginary Billie has quite a mouth on her; she’d encourage him with “fuck yes” and “harder” and “I’m yours”. She’d cling to him and dig her nails in his back as she comes. His hand speeds up as he imagines her dropping to her knees to finish him off and his climax tears through him as he pictures spilling his seeds on her breasts.

 

“… Fuck.”


End file.
